


I Don't Care About What You Believe

by awsomblossom



Series: Unexpected [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Building Friendship, Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, Gen, Godsiblings, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Harry and Adhara don't get together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Millicent Bulstrode has blonde hair cause that's how I always pictured her, Mom Friend Ron Weasley, Not Canon Compliant, Regulus Black Daughter, Slowly Unlearning House Prejudice, but that will change in the later parts, its a sibling relationship at best, some dialogues are borrowed from the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28846758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awsomblossom/pseuds/awsomblossom
Summary: Book 1 of the Unexpected series. Adhara starts Hogwarts and meets Harry.————Nobody saw it coming. One minute, they were at each other's throats, and the next thing they knew, Potter and Black were bonding over their murderous godfather and their mutual hatred for Snape."You think he's ever gonna come after us?""He's most probably more obsessed with you. If anything he'll go after you, not me."“Yeah, but you're the one who's actually related him."“Look, Harry. He's stuck in Azkaban anyway. It's not like he's ever going to escape that place."OrWhere Adhara points out the obvious and manages to save us from a lot of frustration. Which shouldn't be as unexpected as it is.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Harry Potter & original female character, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Millicent Bulstrode & Original Female Character, Hermione Granger & Original Female Character
Series: Unexpected [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115312
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. Prologue

The story went a bit like this. In the summer of 1991, an owl dropped Harry Potter's Hogwarts letter on the doorstep of Number Four, Privet Drive.

A few neighbourhoods over, in another world, a more magical yet seemingly just as selfish one, another owl dropped another letter on the doorstep of Aleyne House for Orphans.

Aleyne was a tall and narrow building, hidden from the eyes of passing by muggles. It stood at the end of a deep alley, covered by the absence of light and an ominous cloud. No confunding spells were necessary as the eerie chill one got when one walked too close to the building was enough to keep people away, wizards and muggles alike.

Aleyne housed many children. Ones who lost their parents to the war, ones who were abandoned for having magic and ones who were left for not. It housed children as young as a few hours old but not those older than fifteen. Matron Hallewell had a belief, you see. At fifteen, a child was old enough to go on about on their own, therefore they no longer needed to squander off the orphanage's money. More specifically, her money.

Matron Hallewell was a special woman. Not Madam, not Ms, but Matron. She believed it kept a certain distance between her and the children. Matron wasn't ordinary, neither was she strange. She was special and she was strict. She believed in discipline and order and scorned anyone who stepped out of line. She hated children, both magical and muggle, and would look at them with disdain and disgust.

And that is exactly how she looked at Adhara Black one gloomy morning as the 11-year-old stood in her office. She held both her hands in front of her, dirty and battered from a night at the furnace room, as the kids liked to call it, waiting for Matron to hand her her Hogwarts letter.

She did. Along with a few other letters and a diary.

"Your mother left them when she dropped you here," she spat through thin lips, "I suppose she didn't want them as much as she did you."

This story started a bit like this. On November 1st, 1981, Albus Dumbledore left Harry Potter at the doorstep of Number Four, Privet Drive with only a letter.

Petunia Dursley opened the letter, read the child's last name and glared at it in disgust.

A year earlier, during springtime, a muggle woman, with no magic whatsoever, left Adhara Black at the doorstep of Aleyne with a few letters and a diary.

Matron Hallewell checked for money and found none. She discovered the child's last name and looked at it in disdain.

Adhara stood politely in front of her. She didn't like Matron, not at all. She wanted to scream at her for putting her in the furnace room. She wanted to call her out for being unfair to the children. But she didn't. Adhara was dirty and tired and the burns on her hands were still hurting from trying to keep the furnace running all night—the orphanage seemed to always be cold, even in the summertime, as if the magic that sewed through the walls itself was tapering off.

Adhara was hungry, but she didn't say it. She was angry, but she didn't show it. Instead, she stood politely in front of Matron, head low and hands high, waiting for her to give her what she wanted. The letter to Hogwarts was her ticket out of the place, and she was going to get it even if it meant keeping her mouth shut. Everything will pay off in the end.

She was going to make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This premise is mostly a “sneak peak” into the series and about how Harry and Adhara meet and become friends, so it’s mostly canon compliant. Things will change in the later parts!


	2. Chapter 1

Adhara Black didn't meet Harry Potter on the train. Instead, she found herself an empty compartment and read through the first three of her father's letters again.

Adhara was confused. For as long as she could remember, Matron had always reminded her of all the awful things her father and her family had done, and how she would do the same because she was cut from the same cloth.

But the man in her letters didn’t sound evil. He wasn't vile and horrible, like how Matron had said he was. He was far from that. In fact, he almost sounded...caring.

Regulus Black wrote quite a few letters to his daughter, right before he disappeared. Clearly, he knew he didn't have much time left; the existence of said letters was proof enough of that.

He wrote to her about everything, from the rare fond memories of Hogwarts to the horrible ones at his childhood home. In his first letter, he wrote about her mother, a muggle woman called Nadia Haque, and about their brief encounter one night. The second one mostly spoke about his brother, Sirius. Though it didn't go much into detail, he wrote about how they were once very close, and then how one day they weren't.

In his third one, Regulus apologized. He apologized for leaving so soon and for not being there for her. And he reminded her that, although he would never have the chance to meet her, he would always love her.

And Adhara’s eyes welled up in tears for it was the first time someone told her they cared for her.

The letters were kept short and brief, but they said enough and there were plenty of them. The diary, which she still hadn't opened, was tucked away in her satchel. It wasn't addressed to her like the letters were, so she was hesitant to open it. She wasn’t sure she was ready to find out about Regulus’ unfiltered thoughts.

Each letter talked about a different topic. But her father finished each and every one of them with the same warning: Beware of You-Know-Who. Stay away from his followers. Do not get involved.

But Adhara was never one to follow orders.

———

Adhara Black didn't meet Harry Potter at the sorting either. Like everyone else, she watched him on that stool from where she sat at her table. _B_ came before _P_ in the alphabet, thus she was already sorted and was sitting with the rest of her housemates.

Adhara wasn't oblivious. She noticed how the rest of Slytherin House sneered at her. Her blood status wasn't a secret. Matron made sure the news got to The Prophet the minute her mother handed her over to Aleyne. In exchange for a generous sum of money, of course.

They saw her as a disgrace. Someone who tarnished the name of Black with her dirty blood. She knew this. She's been reminded of this her whole life. For all Matron liked to remind her about the evil deeds of her family, she herself didn't shy away from having bigoted opinions on blood status.

Quite hypocritical if you asked Adhara.

But Adhara didn't give them the attention they wanted. Half-blood or not, her name meant something in this world. She knew that. Therefore, she kept her head high and ate the food on the table, paying no mind to the boy with a lightning scar on his forehead that everyone seemed to try and get a glimpse of.

She would meet him eventually anyway.

———

But before we tell the story of the boy who lived again, let's mention this first.

Let's mention how McGonagall visibly flinched when she noticed Adhara's name during the sorting ceremony. How she was remembering the last time she saw the names "Potter" and "Black" on the same list.

Let's mention how Headmaster Dumbledore cast a suspicious look towards the young Black, knowing that she might mess with his plans one day. Wanting to keep her at a distance.

Let's mention how Professor Snape stared at her through narrowed eyes and saw another childhood bully to get revenge on and not a housemate he once called a friend.

Let's mention how wherever she went, Adhara was always a reflection of her father or her uncle. A reflection of a family she never met.

About how the blood purists saw her as an abomination, and the others saw her as evil.

About how she was shoved aside by the Dark, and rejected by the Light.

And how she decided then to ignore them both.

———

Harry Potter met Adhara Black one week into the term, right before their first Potions lesson.

He was walking towards the classroom with his new friend and roommate, Ron Weasley when he belatedly noticed her right next to them.

He didn't hear her walking beside them. And now that Harry noticed her, he realized he still couldn't _hear_ her at all. She kept her steps light and somehow managed to breathe very quietly. He admitted that it was strange to notice that about someone, but the way the girl seemed to move about so silently was almost too creepy.

Ron backed him away from her when he finally noticed her. "Better stay away from her, Harry," he all but whispered. "She's a Black, the darkest of families. Her father was a Death Eater. Muggle haters, the lot of them."

The girl in question stared back at them. Harry didn't know her name; he wasn't paying enough attention during the sorting to remember. But he did remember how the entire Hall went quiet when her name was called.

"That's a bit absurd considering my mother was muggle. Didn't you know? Matron said it made the front page of The Prophet when she spread the news."

Harry's brows furrowed. The girl was still, so very still. Her shoulders didn't rise and fall as a normal person's would. And her eyes looked empty if not for the slight raise of her left eyebrow. Harry eyed the green gloves she wore, knowing nothing about the burn marks under them.

It was obvious she tried to keep attention away from her with her quiet demeanour. However, her eerie habits managed to do the exact opposite. She was somehow able to always occupy the back of a person's mind.

Ron's stance didn't falter. "Yeah, well. I don't really believe that."

"I don't care about what you believe."

"Whatever. You're Slytherin anyway."

She rolled her eyes.

———

Later during the class, Professor Snape put Harry and Adhara on the same team after he sneered at them. It seemed like he hated Black as much as he hated Potter.

Only Merlin knew why.

———

Draco Malfoy approached her on the second week of class, trying to find out more about her on his mother's demand. Adhara gave him a suspicious look.

After scouring the library and listening to the other Slytherins, she found out more and more about her family, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

She figured she was the richest student in her house but a quick letter exchange with Gringotts made her realize she wasn't. She found out that although she has access to the Black Family vaults—reason why she was able to pay for her schooling because Matron refused to even spend a sickle on her—she was not heir as she had presumed. The title went to the next male member of the family, which, in her case, was the blond git sitting in front of her.

"Is it really true you're mudblood?"

Very slowly, Adhara nodded. She didn't see any reason to correct him. He knew what he meant.

"That's unfortunate. The purest blood of them all has been tainted. Tell me, _Black_ ," Malfoy spat, "how does it feel to be a disgrace to your name?"

Adhara didn't stay around to hear the rest.

———

Harry never thought too much about rules. Back at Privet Drive, he would try to do as he was told as much as he could. He had to, else it would earn him a beating.

Though, sometimes he broke them. When everything got too much, when he got too angry at the world for leaving him, Harry would let white-hot anger rise to his throat and the Dursley's would listen to all the words he spat out.

It earned him a few days inside his cupboard, it earned him a few days without food and he always got new bruises as a result.

It never felt as satisfying as he thought it would, but then again, he wasn't exactly thinking whenever he let his mouth loose. Though, it always felt necessary.

He had to let them know he wasn't some sort of docile dog they could kick whenever they wanted. He wasn't weak. He wasn't helpless. He had to let them know.

Harry couldn't let them step on him anymore. He was brave enough to show them that.

———

Adhara was never one to follow rules. They got in the way of what she wanted. Back at Aleyne, she got punished the most, but not for rule-breaking. Oh no, she never got caught when she did. But Matron always knew it was her and punished her anyway. She would take away her food privileges and push her into the furnace room, forcing her to manage black coal and fire all night. She's got some nasty burns to show for it.

An unsaid rule passed along the children at Aleyne. You don't snitch on others for they can always get back at you. But as the years passed by, Adhara developed a sort of protectiveness towards some of the kids. They weren't friends, not really. Though they all grew up under the same roof and understood each other perfectly.

Adhara took the blame for some of them, she couldn't bring herself not to. Matron, however, always knew when she did and punished her double for it.

Loyal as a knight, the Sorting Hat considered putting her in Hufflepuff, but her resourcefulness outweighed her loyalty and therefore she was placed in Slytherin. It did make sense though since it was indeed in Slytherin where one would find one's true friends.

———

Harry sat across from Ron at the Great Hall where they were doing their homework. He had a perfect view of the Slytherin table that way. He watched as Malfoy worked on his assignments and threw offhanded comments towards Black when he thought the professors weren't looking.

The Great Hall was packed. It always was at the beginning of the term when the students still felt motivated to study. That normally died down as the months passed, when some older years skipped the homework period. McGonagall and Flitwick were keeping an eye on them that day. They roamed along the tables, helping those who asked for it.

Harry then brought his attention to Adhara Black, who’s name he finally learned. She was also working on her homework and somehow ignored Malfoy altogether.

He leaned towards Ron, who did the same when he noticed him. "How bad exactly is the Black family?"

"They were all blood purists." Ron whispered back, "When You-Know-Who rose, they were one of the first families to show their support. A handful of them were notable Death Eaters who are now either dead or in Azkaban."

"Death Eater?"

The redhead opened his mouth to give him a sarcastic answer before he closed it real quick, realizing his mistake. "Sorry, my bad," he sheepishly scratched the back of his head, "I forget how little you know about our world."

Harry muttered a small apology.

"That's alright! I know nothing about muggles so we're even then!" said Ron, which made Harry smile a bit. "Death Eater is what we call those who followed You-Know-Who. His servants. Charlie thought me."

Harry glanced back at Black, noticing again her green gloves when she pulled out her wand. She pointed it towards a feather. Harry thought she might be practicing for charms since they were learning to cast _Incendio_ at the moment. She was about to flick her wand when she stopped last minute.

She put down her wand and dug around her satchel for something.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

"And you're saying that Black's father was one too?"

Ron nodded furiously.

"But didn't she say her mother was muggle?"

"Honestly, I don't think that's true. I mean come on! A member of House Black willingly being in the presence of a muggle without wanting to kill them? It doesn't make sense."

"Then why is she holding a lighter? Thought wizards didn't know about them."

"A what?"

Harry jerked his chin towards the girl. Ron turned around to get a look at the scene.

Flitwick, who noticed the lighter in her hand, was standing next to her. "What were you trying to do, Miss Black?" he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

All eyes were on her now. Harry could hear Malfoy and his crew snicker from the Gryffindor table.

"The homework was to light the feather on fire, was it not? Well. That's exactly what I'm doing."

"And why is it that you own such a thing anyway?"

"I've got _many_ candles."

Flitwick wiped a hand over his face. "You are meant to use the fire-making spell to do so."

Black tilted her head to the side, but Harry noticed the mischievous glint in her eye. "Why? The feather isn't far away. I could easily just light it with a lighter."

"Yes, but we are practicing the fire-making spell, Miss Black. So you need it to use that."

"Well, that makes no sense."

Professor Flitwick looked exhausted. "The point of the exercise is to practice _Incendio_ , Miss Black. Please just do as I say."

  
"Oh, alright."

And with that, Flitwick walked away. Malfoy started laughing less discreetly when he was far away enough.

"Look at that, the mudblood can't even cast a simple fire spell properly. Having trouble there, Black?" he jeered.

Black finally whipped her head towards the blond. "I'd be careful if I were you, Malfoy. That cheap gel you use in your hair is quite flammable," she spat yet she kept her expression calm. "Since I'm having so much trouble, it would be horrible if I accidentally put fire to your hair, wouldn't it?"

Malfoy's eyes went wide. He brought a hand to the front of his locks and visibly gulped.

The corners of Harry’s mouth quirked up. Ron turned back towards him.

"On second thought, maybe we should fact check that."

———

Adhara read another one of her father's letter this morning. He talked about the day he found out about Nadia's pregnancy in this one.

Regulus wrote about how he was the one to give her her name since her mother wasn't willing enough to come up with something. He also told her about how he named his brother her godfather, which he then admitted to be a stupid idea since he wasn't even certain that Sirius would survive the war either.

Adhara also thought it was a stupid idea. Sirius Black may not have died but he did something reckless and _very Gryffindor_ and got himself stuck in Azkaban instead. She also found it stupid because the man didn't want to take her in the first place. She thought maybe the least her father could have done was to ask her uncle if he was willing to take the title.

But he didn't. And so Adhara was stuck at Aleyne until she turned fifteen.

She already knew about her godfather; Matron wouldn't stop reminding her about her criminal supposed-to-be guardian, so there was nothing new there.

However, the letter did inform her that she shared her godfather with her potions partner. She wanted to share the news with him, ask him if he knew anything about the man, but she didn't know how to go on about it.

She didn't know much about friends, but she was certain that Potter and she were far from it. Though she did want to talk to him about Sirius Black. But how could she approach the boy when he and that Weasley seem to have a palpable dislike for Slytherins? Did they not realize that Slytherin wasn't synonymous with dark? Or that there were muggleborns in the House too?

Potter didn't even speak to her during Potions when they were expected to brew together. She normally just instructed him on what to do and he would do it without a word.

"Here, take these mistletoe berries. We need to crush four into powder and add them to the cauldron."

He took the berries from her hand, keeping his eyes on her gloved hands for a second too long before getting to work. He didn't utter a single word.

Adhara frowned.

Fine. He didn't want to talk, then so be it. She wanted to tell him about Sirius Black but if he was going to be a prejudiced idiot who judged her because of the colour of her robes and because she was part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight then she couldn't be held accountable for withholding information from him. Did he forget that Weasley was also from a pureblood family?

Whatever.

She decided to simply concentrate on their potion. Snape was making them brew a whole new batch of the Forgetfulness Potion again since their last attempt was sabotaged by Malfoy and his crew.

She went to add two pinches of the powered berries into the cauldron when someone threw in another Valerian sprig into their mix. It made their potion turn into a murky red colour when it was actually supposed to be orange.

"Another failed attempt, Miss Black, Mister Potter," Snape gibed from behind them. "I cannot wait around for you to successfully brew this. The rest of the class is falling behind because of you both. Or do you two only care for yourselves?"

Potter, apparently, had had enough. "It wasn't our fault! Malfoy keeps throwing stuff into our potion!"

Oh. So it spoke. How wonderful.

Snape lifted one thin brow at him. "Did he? Then why did I not see anything? I do not tolerate lying in my classroom, Mister Potter. I could give y-"

"He's not lying," Adhara interrupted. "Malfoy threw in an extra sprig of Valerian which turned the potion red."

"I did not!"

Snape, deciding to ignore the blond git, turned his attention on her instead, pressing his lips together. "I don’t presume you have any proof of that, Miss Black?"

She clenched her jaw tight. "Does Mister Malfoy have proof that he didn't?"

Snape glared at her, but Adhara didn't budge. "Ten points from Slytherin, for your cheek."

Adhara didn't bother to dignify that with a reaction, but apparently, Potter did.

"But sir, she's telling the truth! Malfoy keeps ruining our-"

"Ten points from Gryffindor for lying and disrupting class," said Snape. He walked towards the front, sitting at his desk. He kept his gaze on the pair as he continued, "I shouldn't be too surprised by this behaviour. After all, both of you seem to take after your godfather. Sirius Black is known to be a liar."

Adhara went still, never breaking eye contact with the potion master.

Potter, eyes wide, spluttered, "Wh-what do you mean?"

"Oh?" replied Snape snidely, "Does Mister Harry Potter not know about Sirius Black? Were you so sheltered that no one bothered to inform you about your lying and deceiving godfather?”

Adhara heard a few students snicker behind them. Some of those students wore green, others red.

She scoffed. So much for house loyalty.

"Our godfath-"

Adhara grabbed Harry's wrist, preventing him from continuing, and, surprisingly, he let her.

"I think that's enough, Professor. Wouldn't want the rest of the class to fall behind, now would we?" she stated, voice laced with sarcasm.

Snape glared once more. "Another ten points for cheek, Miss Black."

———

"Black!"

The Slytherin slipped out of the classroom the minute Snape dismissed them. Harry quickly gathered his books, dropping a few along the way—which Ron picked up—and ran after his…godsister? Was that a thing?

The corridors were flowing with students, all rushing to get to their next class, so Harry had to maneuver his way around them. He dodged a few older and taller students, with Ron not far behind him, before finally catching up to Black.

He grabbed her by her cloak's sleeve, which made her flinch violently. Harry instantly pulled his hand away, apologizing when she turned around to face him.

When Adhara noticed who exactly she was facing, her frown deepened.

Harry cleared his throat before speaking up. "What was Snape talking about? Who's Sirius Black?"

"Were you not listening?" she threw, defensively.

Harry scowled. He didn't understand why she sounded so upset. "Yes, alright. Our godfather. But what's Azkaban and why is he there?"

"Why not just ask Weasley? He should know the answer."

"Well, ye-yeah, but I thought.” He tightened his arms around his potion’s textbook, swallowing heavily before continuing, “-you know, he's your godfather too so maybe you would know more. And you both share the same last name."

Harry felt all his gryffindorish courage melt away as Adhara fixed his gaze for a moment, scrutinizing him.

She finally gave in. "Fine. I'll tell you what I know."

He watched her glance around herself, before she said, "but not here. There's too many people. Follow me."

—

She led them into an unvisited corridor on the second floor. Checking to see if there was anyone around, Adhara settled herself onto a windowsill when she was certain the three of them were alone.

"What do you want to know?"

Potter stood in front of her, with Weasley right beside him. He started wringing his hands as he exchanged a look with the redhead who simply shrugged.

"What's Azkaban, and why is our godfather there."

"You don't know what Azkaban is?" Adhara asked with knitted brows, "Did your muggle guardians never tell you?"

Potter pursed his lips. "They don't like magic."

"I see." Adhara's face hardened. She's met magic hating muggles before. Nasty folks, the lot of them. They would go as far as abandoning their child for being magic. She wondered just how much they've neglected to inform Potter on things.

"Well. Azkaban is the wizard’s equivalent of prison. Only worse because of the dementors. Our dear godfather was sent there for betraying your father and killing 4 people, one of which was a wizard."

"Betray?"

Adhara nodded, "Yes. Your father and he used to be best friends."

Beside Potter, Weasley sneered. "Told you the family was evil. They only care about keeping their blood pure."

"You do realize that you're also pureblood, right?"

"Yes, but I'm not Slytherin."

"Neither was Sirius Black. He was one of you lions."

"Wh-what?"

Adhara nodded. "How else would he had been best friends with James Potter?" She waited for both of them to say something, but all they did was gape at her, disbelieving. She smirked. "What? Did I just shake up your entire belief system? How tragic."

"N-no!"

Adhara scoffed and shook her head. She put one leg up on her other and leaned back onto the window. "Nevertheless, whatever my uncle did has nothing to do with me. I've never even met the man."

"How come?"

She shrugged. "Matron said he refused to take me in when the orphanage contacted him. I suppose it's because he never got along with my father."

"Orphanage? You grew up at an orphanage?" asked Potter.

"Obviously. Both my parents are dead. Where else was I supposed to go?"

"I don't know. Wouldn't any Old Family be willing to take in a member of House Black?" Weasley added, trying his best to appear nonchalant.

"And what? Associate themselves with the Half-Blood that ended the pure line of the Noble House of Black? Please. I’m lucky enough Aleyne decided to keep me after finding out who I was."

Weasley's eye went wide. "Aleyne? You live at Aleyne?"

"What's Aleyne?" asked Potter.

"An orphanage where Dark Families leave their squib children. Parents tell stories about the place to keep their kids in check."

"Not just Dark Families. Some of the kids are from Light Families too."

Weasley narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe you."

"I've said before that I don't care about what you believe. Though you should keep in mind that I'm the one who grew up there and not you, which means I know more about the place. Now," she said standing up. She looked at Potter, "any more questions?"

He shook his head.

"Then I'll be off."


	3. Chapter 2

The story wasn’t so different this time around. Gringotts was still broken into. The Gryffindor trio’s curiosity was still sparked. Though, this time, for one reason or another—whether that reason was Adhara or not didn’t matter—Ron helped Harry get a subscription with The Prophet. The latter now religiously read the newspaper, checking if they found out anything on the thief.

Completely disregarding the food in front of him, Harry browsed through each column, skipping over the gossip section. He didn't know any of the people mentioned anyway.

He couldn’t understand why he was so concerned about the robbery himself. It wasn’t any of his business, therefore it shouldn’t matter to him at all. But Harry felt the familiar ache in his throat when he first read the article. The same was that pushed him to shout at the Dursley’s with the need to prove himself.

It made absolutely no sense.

Ron looked at Harry's empty plate, which was in a complete opposite state than his own, and shoved a toast in his friend's mouth.

Harry spat it out, scowling at Ron.

"Put it down, will ya? There's nothing about the vault in that. You checked it already." He took the paper away from him, and put another toast on his plate. "Eat first, research after."

"M'not hungry."

"Funny. I don't remember asking."

Harry glared again but took a bite of his toast anyway.

Hermione, who was sitting across from them, spoke up, "I think we should ask the Gamekeeper. You said he was the one who emptied the vault, no?"

"His name is _Hagrid_ ,” stressed Harry. It wasn’t a hard name to remember.

"Since when were you any part of 'we'?"

Hermione frowned at Ron.

Harry was about to say something to Hermione when the scene behind her caught his attention instead.

Hermione, who noticed Harry's line of vision turned around to see what was happening. Black sat at the Slytherin table, Black was quietly eating her breakfast as someone taunted her from behind. It wasn't Malfoy this time, but a girl from their year, with her hair cut short and a flat round nose she held too high.

Black seemed to pay no mind to them.

Ron spoke first, "Gee, talk about unpopular. Seems like no one in her House likes her."

"Why not?" asked Hermione. "Isn't her family a Noble House or something?" She was still learning about the wizarding community, so she didn't know much of the Pureblood Families yet. Although, she did know enough to know their opinions on blood status with the limited knowledge she had about the war and with the comments she received in the hallways. Hermione may not know a lot about Adhara Black, but she knew her name meant something to the pureblood community.

"Yes, but she's half-blood. Ended a pureblood line, that one. Not many people are happy about it."

"You didn't believe that at first though," added Harry.

"Well, now I'm inclined to believe her, I guess."

Hermione seemed to be mulling over this information in her head before giving one last glance towards the Slytherin table. "You mean, she doesn't have many friends?"

"Doesn't seem like she has any at all.”

Hermione scrutinized the two boys in front of her, thinking whether or not she should believe them. Harry and Ron shifted in their seat, uncomfortable under her gaze. Harry watched her as she brought her thumbnail to her mouth, seemingly contemplating over something.

“Okay."

Harry didn't know what conclusion she reached.

———

Adhara was studying in the library one late October afternoon, as she did most days. She never spent her free time in her common room since most of her peers seemed to dislike her. She used to think it was because of her blood status, but now she wondered if the reason may also be her unapproachable nature. She didn't look to be the kindest of witches, with her sharp brows and sunken eyes. Her last name just added to the effect.

So, imagine her surprise when Hermione Granger of all people approached her that day.

"Hi, you must be Adhara Black!"

Adhara glanced up from her parchment with a scowl. When she noticed who was talking to her, she sat up straight in her chair and folded her arms on the table, silently telling the girl to continue.

The Gryffindor did'nt seem to understand. But seeing that Adhara wasn’t going to say anything, she confidently added: “I'm Hermione Granger!"

"I'm aware."

"I was wondering if you started the Transfigura- wait....what?”

Adhara didn't say anything.

"You're aware?"

She nodded.

"As in you know who I am?"

Adhara rolled her eyes. Honestly, she was starting to do that way too often around Gryffindors.

"You're on top of most of our classes, Granger. Not to mention you seem to be the only one in that House of yours who knows not to throw a ruckus. Although you aren't any less loud." She checked the girl for any reaction towards the last statement and saw that her face had turned beet red. "We are in a library after all."

"We-well! I'm sorry-" When she realized she was still speaking at the same volume, she glanced around her, embarrassed, and spoke more quietly, "I apologize for bothering you but I was wondering if you wrote the Transfiguration essay yet. There's a bit of it that I didn't seem to understand much."

Adhara stared her down, suspicious. Granger was biting her nails and seemed to not be able to stand still.

A nervous tick. It was obviously a lie.

Deciding that no harm could come out of this, Adhara indulged her. She let out a sigh and gestured to the chair beside her.

Granger beamed and made her way towards the chair.

"I have, but you should know that I don't like the class too much so my response is a bit biased."

"You don't like Transfiguration? Why not? Professor McGonagall's brilliant!"

"Oh, I agree with that, I just don't like what she teaches. No offence to her, but I find it to be pointless. I mean, why are we learning to transfigure an animal to a goblet when we could just _accio_ one from the kitchens?"

———

"What the _fuck_ what that."

Harry wasn’t much fazed by the swearing. Uncle Dursley did it often and Aunt Petunia never told Dudley off when he did. Though, it seemed bother Hermione. She looked like she wanted to scold Ron but held her tongue. She settled on glaring at him instead. The three of them frantically stumbled into the common room.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that?! Locked up in a school." The redhead made his way to the stairs, climbing them towards the dorm rooms.

Harry was following the two from behind, watching them argue. He learned it was best to stay out of it when Ron and Hermione started to bicker.

Hermione stopped abruptly in the middle of the staircase, surprising Ron who bumped into Harry. He scowled, dusting his shoulders.

"You don't use your eyes, do you? Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"I wasn't looking at its feet! I was a bit preoccupied with its heads. Or maybe you didn't notice, there were three!"

"It was standing on a trap door, which means it wasn't there by accident." She jabbed an index finger at his chest. "It's guarding something."

"Guarding something?" repeated Harry, poking his head from behind Ron.

Ron swatted her hand away. "Yeah? And what would it be _guarding_ , anyway?"

Hermione crossed her arms, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "What _do_ you think?"

Ron's eyes went wide. "You don't think?"

“What?” Harry shook his roommate by his robes. "What does she think!?"

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "The vault? Whatever was in there is now here, at Hogwarts."

"What?!"

"That's right. Now. If you two don't mind, I'm off to bed!"

"Wait!" Ron grabbed Hermione by her shoulder, stopping her from entering the dorm room.

Hermione arched a brow, questioning.

"Don't go off telling any of this to that friend of yours!"

"Friend?"

"Black, of course! The whole school knows you two are study buddies or something!"

Hermione pushed his arm away. "And why not?"

"Just don't!"

"Whatever," she huffed. "Now, I'm going to bed before either of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed. Or worst, expelled," she said pointedly. Hermione pushed the door of the girl's dorms and left Harry and Ron behind her.

Both boys exchanged a worried look.

"She needs to sort out her priorities."

———

For the next few weeks, Granger and Adhara studied together almost every day. Apparently, she took that one permission to sit beside her as an invitation to study together all the time.

The news about the duo spread around the school like wildfire. They found it odd to see a member of House Black getting along with a muggleborn witch. The library was flooded with students trying to get a peek at the two.

If you asked Adhara, they were the ones who were odd.

Adhara never had any friends before so she didn't know if she was supposed to consider Granger one. The kids back at Aleyne weren't friends. They weren't family either. It was more so a mutual understanding between them. Don't anger Matron and neither of us will have to spend the night in the furnace room.

She didn't dislike Granger, but she didn't particularly like her either. Adhara decided at the end that whatever relationship she had with Granger wasn't important. Even if her righteousness annoyed her sometimes, her overall company wasn't _that_ irritating. So maybe she'll keep her around. You know, for _Granger's_ sake.

———

The night before Halloween, Harry had a nightmare.

It wasn't uncommon for him to have a nightmare. In fact, he got plenty of them back at Privet Drive. When he was younger, it was mostly about his aunt leaving him on his own. Back when he still thought he would win her over one day. That she would love him back. But that never happened. And slowly, the nightmares shifted from abandonment to the cupboard, or about being locked outside in the yard.

Sometimes, he dreamt about Dudley and his fists, or Uncle Vernon and his belt, and he would feel phantom pain on his back. Either way, he knew it meant he wouldn't get any sleep that night.

Getting nightmares at Hogwarts wasn't new either. It's been two months since the start of term, but Harry mastered the silencing spell quite early on. He would cast a simple _silencio_ on himself before bed, hoping he wouldn't wake anyone up with his trashing and turning.

However, he forgot that just because no one could _hear_ him, it didn't mean no one would _see_ him. He forgot to draw his curtains after all.

And after growing up with the twins, which meant he always had to be on his toes, Ron Weasley was a light sleeper.

And from his friend's eating habits to his sleeping habits, not to mention the fact that he couldn't hear him at all even though he was clearly talking in his sleep, Ron was starting to question a few things.

Worry built up in his stomach as he made his way towards Harry’s bedside. He gave him a light tug, waking him up.

Harry jolted awake, flinging his arms towards whoever woke him before noticing a tinge of red hair in the dark. He reached for his glasses.

He tried to speak to Ron, but no sound came out.

"Take off the silencing charm. I know you use it."

Harry complied.

"Are you going to tell me what this is about?" he asked, arms crossed. Ron wasn’t very sure what he was meant to do. He raked through his own memories, trying to recall how he used to help Ginny when she woke him up in the middle of the night. Back when they were both still small and the only ones left at the Burrow whilst their older brothers were at school.

Harry turned away, avoiding his eyes. He couldn't lie to him at this point. "Nightmares," he replied simply, keeping his voice as steady as he could manage.

"I could see that. Now, move over."

"What?"

"Move over. I'm not exactly small, am I?"

Still confused about the situation, yet weirdly grateful, Harry made some room for his friend who was already crawling into his bed.

Ron laid down underneath the covers, facing away from Harry. "Goodnight."

Harry's brows stayed furrowed. He slowly laid down, pulling the covers over his head.

"Goodnight, Ron."

———

On Halloween day, Adhara showed up at the library after lessons as per usual only to notice that Granger was nowhere to be seen. She decided that perhaps the girl was only late, but as the clock ticked closer to dinner time, Adhara started to get annoyed.

She huffed, gathering her stuff. "Whatever. I only kept her close for Transfiguration anyway," she muttered under her breath.

As she was leaving the library, however, another girl from Gryffindor ran towards her. She kept her long black hair plaited on the side with a butterfly hair tie at the end.

"Black!"

Adhara gave her a dirty look, but the girl didn't budge.

"Please, my mother's a lot scarier than you are," the girl scoffed. "Anyway, you're friends with Hermione right? Well, she's in the first-floor bathroom. Crying. She's been there all afternoon!"

"And why are you telling me this?" she glared at her even more. Adhara repositioned her satchel from one shoulder to another, tightening her grip around the strap.

"Well, you two are friends, no?"

She grumbled under her breath. "She's not my friend," she stated matter-of-factly, yet still made her way towards the bathrooms.

———

Adhara all but ran to the girls' bathroom. She was thankful the library was also on the first floor, or else she wouldn't have even bothered. Or at least that's was she told herself.

"Granger?"

She didn't answer. But Adhara could hear quiet sniffling from one of the stalls.

"Granger? You didn't show to the library today." She got closer to the stall and squatted down next to it."I can hear you crying."

" 'm not crying,” she sniffed.

"Your sniffling isn’t very discreet.” The girl didn’t reply. Adhara huffed and stood up. She knocked on the door. "Come on Granger, open up."

Another weep.

"Please," she said more softly.

She heard the sound of an undistinguished _click_ before the door opened only a little. Adhara let herself smile victoriously and walked inside the stall.

Granger was sitting on the toilet with the lid closed, her head on her knees.

Adhara kneeled at her level, waiting to see if she would open up herself, but that didn't happen.

"Granger, I didn't come here to watch you wallow in your own despair. Tell me what happened."

The 12-year-old girl lifted her head up, sniffling one last time before glaring at Adhara. "How did you know I was here?"

"One of the Patil twins told me. I expect our entire year group to know about this by supper."

"Oh!" Granger grabbed a handful of her own hair, shoving her head between her knees once more. She started crying again.

Adhara wasn’t too sure what to do. She was used to subduing crying babies at Aleyne, but never someone her own age. The older kids didn’t cry. And if they did, they did so behind doors.

Hesitantly, Adhara placed a hand on her head. "There, there. It's alright. No one will remember this by tomorrow." She patted her head awkwardly.

"You-you’re sure?"

"No. Not really. But we can hope."

"You know, you're very bad at this."

Adhara shrugged. "I just don't like lying."

She coughed, but the side of her mouth quirked a bit. "I suppose that can sometimes be better."

"Trust me, the truth is always better." Adhara smiled back. "Now, are you going to explain what you're doing here? We're missing the Halloween feast for this, you know?"

Granger scowled. She wiped her hands over her eyes before quietly saying, "Ron."

The smile on her face wiped off in an instant. "What did Weasley do?"

"He only said what everyone else thinks. I am a nightmare! Ron's right! Professor Snape is right also! I am just an insufferable know-it-all."

Adhara thought it over for a moment. Granger had her eyes snapped shut again as she tried not to let any more tears spill. She contemplated between consoling the girl and confronting the redheaded jerk, deciding that perhaps it would be better to take care of the situation in front of her first. Ron Weasley wasn’t that important right now.

"I wouldn't say you're insufferable. Loud perhaps, a bit irritating at times-"

Granger shoved her.

"-and definitely a know-it-all. Which isn’t exactly a bad thing. There is nothing wrong with liking to read, nor is there anything wrong with being too smart for your own good."

"But Professor Snape said-"

"Professor Snape is a miserable man who is taking out all of his life's frustration on children. He doesn't like any of us."

Granger looked meek. "Ron also said I had no friends."

"Well, I may not know much about friends, but I am certain not everyone just skips the Halloween Feast for anyone."

Granger smiled. And Adhara copied her expression. 

"Now, come on, Granger. Let's go eat." 

"Oh for God’s sake!" Granger groaned out, exasperated, "if we're going to be friends, you have got to stop with all this ‘Granger’ nonsense first! Honestly! It's Hermione!"

Adhara looked a bit taken aback by her outburst. "Alright then. Hermione. Let's go to the Great Hall." She opened the stall door, letting her new friend step out first.

"And have everyone stare at me for pathetically crying all aftern-"

"Everyone might forget if something more eventful occurs,” she glanced at Hermione and saw she was staring at the entrance, mouth wide open.

"What?" 

Hermione lifted a shaking finger towards to door. “The-there.”

“What in the-”

——

"Adhara."

"Yes?"

"The stalls?"

"Yes."

Hermione quickly grabbed Adhara's forearm and dragged her inside a stall, locking it behind her. Stricken by panic, it didn’t occur to her that wooden doors were pointless in front of a troll. The beast obliterated the stalls in only one swing.

Hermione shrieked, covering her ears and eyes with her arms. Adhara pushed her down. She threw her own arms around her, trying her best to shield her from the debris. As the troll growled ferociously, they heard the muffled sound of fast-approaching footsteps outside the bathroom. And then the door was yanked open.

"Hermione?!"

"Ron?!"

"Potter?!"

"Black?! What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing!"

"I asked you first!"

"Never mind that!" shouted Hermione, "Distract the troll!"

Potter and Weasley exchanged a look before giving each other a determined nod. They started to grab broken pieces of wood and threw them at the troll.

"Not like that! You're wizards, remember?! Use your wands!" Adhara reminded.

The troll made another swing at the girls, who crawled their way towards the sinks. But the monster swung at them again, breaking the basins and the water pipes. Hermione let out another scream.

Potter grabbed his wand and ran at the troll, jumping onto his back.

Adhara felt like smacking him over the head. "Why did you even take your wand out for if you were going to do that?" She was annoyed by the Gryffindor. "How did you think this would be a good idea?"

"It seemed like one at the time!"

“Well, how about now?!"

The troll grabbed Potter by his legs, holding him upside down and started to swing its club at his head.

"Ron!" Potter called out, "Do something!"

"What?!"

"Anything!"

Weasley took out his wand and pointed at the troll.

"Remember! Just swish and flick!"

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

—-—

Years of being denied proper meals had affected Harry's appetite. It's not that he didn't like eating. Oh no, he was more than ecstatic the first night at Hogwarts, during the Welcoming Feast, when all the food appeared. And the fact that he was _allowed_ to dig into that was even more mind-boggling.

But unlike Ron, who could stuff two full plates into his stomach, Harry felt full after half a plate. Which was more than enough as he rarely got hungry.

Though, it seemed like there was another factor that affected Harry's appetite. If he didn't eat much already, he ate much less the morning of his first quidditch match.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione began, "you need food in your system if you want to fly properly."

But Harry couldn't hear her, overcome by nausea. Everyone was depending on him for the match. He had to catch the snitch, or else his team would lose. They expected a lot from him because he was supposed to be a natural. He was supposed to be the boy-who-lived. The son of quidditch fanatic James _bloody_ Potter.

He didn’t want to make a fool of himself. He couldn’t.

"Here," Ron handed him a glass of orange juice, "try to drink something, at least."

"I feel like I'll gag out anything I put in my stomach."

Ron pushed the glass away.

This shouldn't be new. Harry always knew his stomach felt funny every time he worried about something. But he shouldn't have needed to wait eleven years to find out stress also affected his appetite.

And yet.

"Look, guys. I promise I'll eat something after the match. Just...not now." He shoved his almost-full bowl of porridge out of the way.

Hermione gave Ron a worried look.

———

Adhara had to learn at a very young age not to show her emotions. Whenever she was called into Matron’s office, she would clench her fists, tighten her jaw and keep her gaze straight ahead. Never at Matron directly, but never bowing her head either.

Matron didn’t like that. She liked it when her children followed orders. But Adhara was never one to do that. She liked tugging back at people who tugged on her, reminding them she couldn’t be controlled. And Matron hated her for it.

It was a game Adhara mastered early on. Although, no matter how good she was at it, it was a game that came with no clear instructions, thus a lot of the learning came from trial and error. But all paid off in the end. She could now stand in front of Matron, without showing the slightest bit of fear. All she has to do was dig her nails into her palm.

Though, she couldn’t deny the ball of anxiety that grew in the pit of her stomach whenever she faced the woman. Or whenever someone mentioned the furnace room, no matter how well she wore the mask.

But Matron wasn’t here. And the furnace room was far away.

So why was she feeling this way?

It was a perfectly normal transfiguration lesson. It was quiet except for the soft scratches of quill against parchment. Apart from the small tapping of a student’s foot against a chair leg. Or the drum of someone’s fingernails against wood.

It was a perfectly normal transfiguration lesson. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

Yet, Adhara felt overwhelmed. The smallest of sounds was ticking her off. She couldn’t push away the tight ache in her chest.

Her desk mate, some guy from Hufflepuff, worked silently from next to her, paying no attention to her whatsoever.

Good. Normal.

McGonagall the Cat's piercing gaze loomed over the students, making sure no one was misbehaving. Stopping to look at anyone who didn't have their eyes on their parchment.

Okay. Also very normal.

Adhara wasn't working on her homework. She was trying to push away the uncomfortable heat on her skin, the one that made her feel like she was covered in a thick layer of hot oil.

Not normal. Not unusual, however.

She started to pick at the skin of her palm, covered by the silky fabric of her gloves.

_“She isn’t here. She isn’t here. She. Isn’t. Here. You’re at Hogwarts, Adhara. Far away from Aleyne.”_

Adhara stopped when she felt something damp underneath her glove. She looked down to see it was stained. Deciding that it was better to just ignore it, she forced herself to grab her quill instead and got to work, ignoring the prickling sensation on her skin.

Without noticing, the Slytherin started to chew the inside of her cheek.

McGonagall eyed her from her seat.

———

One evening, as the trio was working on their homework at the Great Hall, Adhara made her way towards them. She took the spot next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table, setting her bag in front of her.

"What are you doing here?"

She turned towards the voice. “Sitting, obviously."

Weasley groaned. "I mean, what are you doing here, at the Gryffindor table?"

"Talking to Hermione. I don't think there are any rules against it. And even if there were, I wouldn't care."

"Your gloves aren't green today," remarked Potter, suddenly.

She snapped her head towards him, ready to tell him off but then noticed that he meant no harm from the comment. In fact, the hand on his mouth indicated that he didn't mean to say that out loud at all. She sighed.

"I own a few pairs, Potter. I just so happen to own several green ones, but it is not the only colour I have."

Potter’s face had turned red. He really hadn't meant to blurt that out.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine." Adhara decidedly ignored the two boys then and focused on her friend instead. "Have you started the Potions homework? There's something I don't quite get."

"What it is?"

"Why does it matter which direction we stir the mixture? I mean what's the magical property behind it? It can't be anything physical since I know science doesn't exactly explain this, so it has to be magical, right?"

Hermione's forehead creased. "I wonder that as well." She then got ahold of Adhara’s forearm and dragged her out of her seat. "Come on, we're going to the library!"

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm assuming you wouldn't want to talk to Professor Snape."

———

Harry was in the courtyard one November morning, where he sat cross-legged on the ground as Ron explained gobstones to him.

It was a warm day outside, which was rare this time of the year, so Ron and he decided to make the most of it and bring their game outside for once. Who knew when the sun will decide to make an appearance again?

Hermione and Black were only a small distance away, as the latter tried explaining how the seats in the Wizengamot worked. Most wizarding kids already knew this, so Hermione thought it to be beneficial for her to know too.

"Okay, so you get 15 gobstones, and I get 15. The point is to knock seven of yours out of the circle before your opponent does."

"Oh, so it's kinda like marbles?"

"What?"

"Muggles variant of this, I guess. Only, we use marbles, not stones."

"Oh! Do the muggles get sprayed with a nasty smell when they lose?"

"Not that I know of."

Ron shoved 15 stones in his hands when Jeremiah Midge, a Hufflepuff from the year above, sat down beside Harry. He played beater for their quidditch team.

Midge flung an arm around Harry's shoulders and jerked his head towards Ron. "What'cha doing here, lads?"

Ron gave him a judging look, reflecting Harry's expression exactly.

“Planning world domination,” Harry answered sarcastically. He didn’t like him, something about the boy’s attitude was off. He squirmed out of the his arm, who looked offended by the act.

Midge switched his attention to Ron instead. "Gobstones? On a day like this! Come on lads, let's have some real fun!"

"What do you suggest?"

"We could go for a friendly game of quidditch? Or better yet, we could go to Hogsmeade!"

Ron scowled. "Umm, mate. Did you forget we're first years or something? And you're a second year. We can't go to Hogsmeade unless we were third years."

Harry moved away from Midge, who just swung an arm around him once more. "So? We've got the boy-who-lived right here with us! See those guys over there," he pointed towards a group Hufflepuffs, joined with some Gryffindors. They were all smiling and waving at him. "Surely, you can use some of your famous points to get us out of this measly old castle, right?"

Harry's glare hardened. "No, thank you.” He distantly noticed that Hermione and Black stopped talking.

"Oh, come on! This Weasley of yours must get some kind of special treatment for being your friend. Why can't we?" His smile got more and more bright, to the point that it looked fake.

“You should know not everyone is as much of a glorywhore as you are."

Midge's smile dropped too easily. He retrieved his arm. "Oi."

"What?" Harry challenged. He wasn’t going to let this jerk walk over him.

"Oh, so I see. You _are_ more like that godfather of yours than your own parents. Tell me, Potter, when did you go Dark? Should I expect the same level of crazy as the Blacks from you?"

He made a grab for Harry's collar when suddenly his hand shrunk twice its size. Both of them looked towards the source of the spell. Black was still sitting at her spot, but her wand was raised and she spared a glance towards Midge.

"What the fuck?!" Midge yelled.

Black, her expression seemingly still cool, pointed her wand to his mouth, freezing it. Ice covered the Hufflepuff’s lips. "If it’s Black level crazy you want to see, you can always come to me. I can show you exactly why my family got the reputation it has."

Hermione tried to stop her, and Ron looked at her, reluctantly impressed.

Midge, who was taken aback, still decided to march up to her, but Black only twirled her wand again and the Hufflepuff was knocked back. She turned and faced his friends. A menacing look played her features, making them scamper away.

Harry wasn't sure whether to be pissed or grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to let you know that I haven’t read the book in literal years. Though, I did watch the movie over Christmas so most of my memory stems from that. I did do some research to get the events in correct order (my apologies if I made a mistake). Also, like I’ve mentioned in the tags (which I’m not sure if I did correctly since this is the first time I post on here), but some dialogues are from the movie.


	4. Chapter 3

It was late one night, a few days before winter break when Harry and Hermione sat in front of the fireplace. Library books surrounded them as they tied to find more information about a man named Nicholas Flamel. Ron was sound asleep on the couch behind the duo. The flickering light of the fireplace created shadows on his face that Harry felt like tracing them with his fingers. He didn’t though. Because Ron was a light sleeper. And he didn’t want to wake him up. Though, that didn’t stop him from speaking loudly.

  
Harry flung his book close, throwing it across the room. "This is pointless. We're never going to find anything in these books."

  
Hermione sighed at his behaviour, but she knew he was right. She closed her book also.

  
Harry leaned against an upholstered chair, resting his head on the seat and closing his eyes. They’ve been searching for this _Nicholas Flamel_ for weeks without any lead. And yet his name sounded awfully familiar. Only Harry couldn’t put his finger on why it sounded so familiar, which made everything more frustrating.

  
He peeked at Hermione through one open eye. She was absentmindedly biting her thumbnail, obviously lost in thought so he elbowed her slightly, rousing her from her reverie.

  
“We should ask Adhara for help."

  
Harry pursed his lips. He admitted he had thought of the idea before, but he didn't like it very much.

  
"No."

  
"Why not? Four heads are better than three."

  
"I don't trust her."

  
“Well, I do. She's great! She even defended you that day in the courtyard! Against Midge!"  
"She hexed him, that's what she did."

  
"Technically none of the spells she used were hexes. Only charms."

  
Harry shot up. "Really?"

  
"Yes," Hermione rolled her eyes. "And Fred and George hex people all the time. You don't have any problem with them."

  
"They're different."

  
"Why? Because they aren't Slytherin?"

  
"Exactly."

  
"And what's so wrong with Slytherins?"

  
Harry glared at his feet. He didn't know if he wanted to share the whole truth yet. He opted to tell her another truth instead. "Hagrid said that there isn't a wizard gone bad who wasn't in Slytherin."

  
"Well, that's just stupid. Midge is a jerk and he is a Hufflepuff. Not to mention none of his friends wore green."

  
He noticed this too, he just didn't want to admit it yet. Harry picked a random book from the pile and started flipping through it, not really reading.

  
"What's this really about, Harry? Don't tell me Ron actually convinced you of all that house rivalry nonsense."

  
"No, that's not..."

  
"Then what is it?"

  
He slammed the book shut. "That day!" He winced at the volume of his own voice and took a breath to calm himself down. "That day, at the courtyard-” he tried again, but couldn’t bring himself to continue. He drew his head back again, looking at the ceiling. Someone once taught him to count whenever he felt angry and that’s exactly what he was doing. Counting the little emblems on lions around the common room. There were a lot of lions.

  
Hermione urged him to continue.

  
Harry room a another deep breath. "I didn't need her help. I'm not helpless. I can't defend myself."

  
"She didn't say you were."

  
"Then why did she help me?"

  
"If I was the one who helped you instead, would you still be mad?"

  
"Yes!"

  
Hermione frowned. "Why?"

  
"Because, as I said, I don't need anyone's help. I didn't ask for it!"

  
"You don't need to ask for help! We're your friends, we want to help you because we care about you, not because we think you're helpless!"

  
Harry looked shocked at her outburst and, fortunately for him, kept his mouth shut.

  
"And before you say anything else about Adhara, let me just remind you that she was the first person who was nice to me and befriended me whilst you and Ron went about speaking behind my back. She's a good person! So you better shut it with all that about Slytherins being bad because it's all rubbish!"

  
Harry watched her as she tried to calm herself down.

  
"Better?"

  
Hermione glared.

  
"I-I didn't know she was your first friend here."

  
"First friend ever."

  
"Sorry."

  
Hermione didn't reply to the apology. Instead, she said, "Adhara's more trustworthy than she looks. And judging her based on her House doesn't make you any better than the sorts like Midge."

  
Harry frowned. He knew Hermione was right. It was Hermione, after all. She was always right.

  
———

  
A few days after Christmas, Adhara found herself a quiet nook under the quidditch stands. She sat in the corner of the Hufflepuff area, reading one of her father’s letters.

  
"Hey."

  
Adhara recognized the voice. She didn't bother to look up from the letter.

  
"Potter," Adhara acknowledged.

  
The said boy nodded in response before striding up to her and taking a seat next to her. He fumbled around with the edge of his muffler, clearly debating whether or not he should be here.

  
Adhara decided to save him from his thoughts. "Why are you here?"

  
Potter shrugged.

  
"Where is Weasley?"

  
Potter shook his head, cheeks puffed out.

  
"Had a fight, now did we?”

  
Potter shook his head again. "No, it's just..."

  
Adhara waited for him to continue.

  
"I found a mirror."

  
"A mirror?"

  
"Yes. A magic mirror. And Ron says we shouldn't get too close to it."

  
"Why not?" she questioned, intrigued. She put away her letter.

  
"It shows me my parents. But not to Ron."

  
Adhara found this unsettling.

  
"Show me."

  
—

  
"See, stand there. Right in the middle. Tell me what you see."

  
Adhara did as she was told and looked inside the mirror. "What do you see, Potter?"

  
"I see my mum and my dad."

  
"I do too."

  
"Right?! Ron wasn't-"

  
"No, Harry. I see _my_ mum and _my_ dad. Not yours. Well, at least that's who I think they are. I never met them."

  
"Me neither."

  
A few minutes passed by without any of them speaking. They sat in front of the mirror and continued to stare.

  
Harry spoke first. "Adhara, why do you always wear gloves?"

  
"Why do none of your clothes ever fit you?"

  
Neither of them answered each other's questions, but they both understood.

  
"I miss my parents."

  
"So do I."

  
———

  
The day after the mirror incident, Potter, with a reluctant Weasley stomping behind him, approached her at lunch. At the Slytherin table.

  
"Can we join you?"

  
She lifted a suspicious brow at them. Adhara looked around the table and saw that the few other Slytherins who stayed back for the Holidays were also casting them a wary look.

She searched their faces for any lies and found none. Turning her attention back at her dinner, she stated: "I don't own the place."

Potter's whole face lit up.

  
Later, both Weasley twins also joined when they noticed their brother at the table.

  
———

  
On the rare occasions that Adhara did study at the common room, she made sure that the place was fairly empty, which it mostly was considering it was winter break.

  
Her housemates usually left her alone. It was January and the whole "a half-blood Black" fiasco had died down. Now, they mostly just glared at her from afar instead of actually directly bothering her. Well, all except for Draco Malfoy.

  
Apart from him, no one else really talked to her. The reduction of attention was greatly appreciated since it was now safe to spend a bit more time in the common room without worrying about others.

  
Except, today, that was not the case.

  
Someone decided to join Adhara at her table. She lifted her eyes from her parchment to see Millicent Bulstrode sitting across from her.

  
Bulstrode was one of three students she shared a room with. She was one of the quieter ones. The other two, Parkinson and Greengrass, seem to always be in their own corner, talking away. They tried to taunt Adhara at the beginning of the term, but the girl just ignored them and the duo eventually gave up. They then tried to pick at their next victim, her third roommate. But Bulstrode showed them her fist once and they instantly shut up.

  
Adhara didn't comment on Bulstrode's seating choice. After all, the common room didn't belong to her, her roommate had every right to sit wherever she wanted. It just surprised her that she chose to sit there specifically when the rest of the room was completely empty.

  
"You seem to be good friends with Potter and those Weasleys."

  
Adhara furrowed her brows. Potter wasn't her friend. And the Weasleys certainly weren't, but she didn't bother to correct her.

  
"I don't see how that's any of your concern."

  
Bulstrode smiled. "I'm Millicent."

  
———

  
Ron was taking too long in the bathroom that evening. The boy fell into the ice-cold Black Lake earlier and instead of going to see Madam Pomfrey, he decided a hot shower was enough. But apparently, that meant he would spend an hour in the shower.  
Harry, being the perfect student that he was, decided to complete the homework he didn't do over the break.

  
He sat on Ron's bed, not knowing what to write as droplets of ink stained the surface of his parchment.

  
Seamus Finnigan walked into their room, looking suspicious. He didn't notice Harry until he spoke, startling Seamus in the process.

  
"Harry!"

  
"Hey. Why do you look like you're up to something?"

  
Seamus looked sheepish. He brought a hand to the back of his neck. "Well, umm. Me and Dean wanted to prank Snape."

  
Harry thought for a second. And then, "I'm always down to prank Snape, I don't even need a reason. So what's the plan?"

  
"My dad mailed me food colouring. Told him I needed it for potions. He's muggle, you see?"

  
"Yeah, you've mentioned."

  
"Well," continued Seamus, smile widening, "I thought maybe we could put a few drops in Snape's goblet. He'll have green teeth then."

  
Harry smirked. "Use red instead. Make him show his Gryffindor pride."

  
Seamus’ smile turned into a full on grin then. He grabbed the red colour instead. "I like how you think, Potter! Wanna help?”

  
“As long as you don't blow anything up."

  
———

  
Adhara and Hermione studied at their usual spot in the library when Millicent walked up to them. She surveyed a look over the duo, before shrugging and taking the spot in front of Hermione.

  
Hermione waited for her for a second to see if she would say something but Bulstrode only took out her parchment and started working. She turned towards her friend, expecting some sort of explanation but noticed that Adhara hadn't looked up from her book even once.

  
She nudged her with her foot. Adhara only hummed.

  
"Are you two friends?" she whispered, gaining the blonde's attention as well.

  
"No," said Adhara at the same time as Millicent replied with a "yes."

  
Adhara glanced towards Millicent, considering it. "Oh. I guess we are. We're roommates and she lets me call her by her first name."

  
"And that signifies you both are now friends?"

  
Both Slytherins gave her a nod.

  
Hermione rolled her eyes. " _Purebloods_."

  
"We're both half-blood, actually."

  
"Alright, then. _Wizards_."

  
"Tell me about it." Millicent agreed, shaking her head. "Millicent Bulstrode, by the way."

  
Hermione smiled. She put down her quill and leaned towards the girl. "Say. Can I call you Millie?"

  
"No."

  
"I'm calling you that anyway."

  
———

  
It was a Hogsmeade weekend when Hermione decided to be true to her House and do something daring. She dragged Harry to the Slytherin table with her.

  
Ron had detention, so he only had Hermione, but she wanted to spend the day with Black, so he had to comply.

  
Harry’s stomach made a grumbling noise. He ate at the Slytherin table one evening before, during the holidays. But there weren't that many people then, and he was accompanied by the Weasley's, a family of purebloods, instead.

  
Blood traitor or not, they were more welcomed by blood purists than muggleborns. Harry loved Hermione, and he couldn't care less about what others thought. She should be allowed to eat at the table if she wanted to. However, he couldn't help but wonder what a muggleborn sitting at the Slytherin table would entail.

  
She pushed him beside a girl with blonde hair whose name he didn't know and sat herself down next to Black. In the end, Harry decided not to think about it too much and grabbed a sandwich. He did admit that he hadn't wanted to sit at the Gryffindor table that day. Midge and his group were there and he didn't fancy receiving the stink-eye all lunchtime as he did on most Hogsmeade weekends.

  
"Oi!"

  
The girl next to him, Hermione and he turned their attention towards the voice. Black continued to separate her sandwich into smaller bite-size pieces, seemingly ignoring Malfoy.

  
"What is _she_ doing here?"

  
"Eating, obviously," said Harry, mocking Black's usual response.

  
The said girl scoffed.

  
"Mudblood aren't welcome here, Potter! And neither are you!"

  
"Aren't I also mudblood?" started the girl beside him, "and Adhara too? And what about all the other actual mudbloods who wear a green tie?"

  
"There aren't any-"

  
"Yes, there are. We just never talk about them." Adhara put a piece of her sandwich into her mouth, still wearing her gloves.

  
Harry thought that couldn't be very sanitary, but made no comment.

  
"Do try to mind your own business, sometimes," she continued. "I understand you're trying to build an image here, but you should know that you're only embarrassing yourself. And as your cousin, I feel it to be my duty to stop you from humiliating the family's name."

  
Malfoy's face turned red. His jaw clenched, eyes darting between the four before he said: "I'll have you know that I'm more of a 'Black' than you'll ever be, _half-blood_. I'm the heir to both the Malfoy and the Black line, unlike _you_ , who's blood's-"

  
Harry didn't let him finish. He wanted to kick him but restrained himself from doing so.

  
"And yet, she's the one who carries the name," he pointed out instead.

  
Adhara finally looked up from her plate, eyes on Harry.

  
Malfoy slammed his fist onto the table. "I am a pureblood!"

  
"You're an inbred, that's what you are. Now, go eat your food."

  
Still fuming, yet utterly stumped, Malfoy stalked away.

  
Hermione still looked dumbstruck at Harry's comment, but the girl beside him looked secretly pleased.

  
Adhara was smirking. Harry mirrored her expression.

  
———

  
"That looks absolutely wicked."

  
They were standing at the stalls, watching Potter play in yet another quidditch match. It was the first one Adhara attended all year. She snuck away from the other Slytherins a while ago, Millicent at her feet as she made her way towards Hermione.

  
They weren't standing with the rest of the Gryffindors either, deciding on a place close to the Ravenclaws, which was somewhat of a middle ground.

  
It was Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor that day, so Adhara felt less guilty for siding with Potter. Note, she was _siding_ with him. She was not _cheering_ for him. Those were very different concepts.

  
She never saw a quidditch game before, only heard what it was like from some of the older kids at Aleyne. Adhara was surprised to find out that she was completely mesmerized by it.

  
Millicent and Hermione both gave her a look, confused but at the same time amused at Adhara's rare display of emotion. Adhara kept her eyes on the match.

  
"Wicked?" Hermione questioned.

  
"I mean. That looks _fun_."

  
Adhara eyes followed the Hufflepuff chaser as he did a double barrel, escaping one of the Gryffindors beater (either Fred or George, but who could tell?) before he smashed the quaffle towards Wood.

  
She clapped along when Hufflepuff scored.

  
"Fun?" That was Millicent.

  
"Yes. Fun. I feel like I might enjoy that. Maybe even do better."

  
"Which position, exactly?"

  
"Chaser, obviously."

  
—

  
Gryffindor won. Unsurprisingly.

  
Ron was still relishing the win and celebrating with the rest of the Gryffindor quidditch fanatics to actually go see Harry. Therefore, Hermione dragged Adhara by her arm towards the red tent where she knew Harry would be with the rest of his team. Millicent trailed behind them.

  
"Shouldn't you wait for Weasley to join you? I don't think they'd appreciate two Slytherins showing up."

  
"Nonsense! It's Harry. We've eaten together at your table!"

  
"I'm talking about the rest of the team, Hermione."

  
Millicent joined the conversation. "I don't know Adhara. I always thought that Flint and Wood had something going on. It seems a bit too intense for it to only be a rivalry."

  
Adhara turned around to show her a disgusted expression. She didn't like _romance_ talk at all.

  
Millicent laughed.

  
—

  
"Nice game. I guess."

  
"Thanks. I think."

  
Hermione's eyes darted between three two. She still hoped both her friend groups would somehow unite, but this was just awkward.

  
Millicent came to the rescue. "Don't listen to her, Potter. She was too busy paying attention to the chasers to actually watch you play."

  
Adhara wasn’t affected by the comment. It was the truth. The chaser position seemed more fun. Why would anyone want to stay still for most of the game and only be on the lookout for a small golden bug?

  
"The position seems more enjoyable. Besides, I'm assuming you were good since the game only lasted a mere five minutes."

  
Harry’s cheeks flushed, yet he crossed his arms, standing up more straight. He was obviously confident in his abilities no matter how embarrassed he got about compliments.

  
"Although," continued Adhara, "if the game had lasted longer, I highly doubt Hufflepuff would've lost. Their chasers are much better than yours."

  
She hoped the comment would offend the boy, but instead Harry's eyes lit up. He took a step toward her and started rambling about techniques and positions. "I know right! Angelina's amazing but I think we should incorporate some of the Puff’s training techniques for the chasers. I was gonna talk about it with Wood!"

  
Adhara took a step back, slightly taken aback, but she tried not to show it much. Harry's eyes were practically sparkling. Was quidditch really that important to this kid?

  
"Ye-yeah, umm. That sounds like a good idea."

  
Harry grinned.

  
———

  
On one afternoon, during the weekend, Hermione approached Adhara in the library. This was far from being unusual, but normally, there weren't two Gryffindor boys trailing behind her.

  
"Adhara, we need your help."

  
The girl in question looked at her friend, confusion written all over her face. "All three of you?"

  
The trio nodded, albeit Weasley a bit reluctantly.

  
"We're looking for something-"

  
"-someone!" Potter interjected.

  
"Yes. Alright. Someone. But we only have his name and know nothing about him."

  
"Who?"

  
"Nicholas Flamel."

  
Adhara thought for a second, raking her brain for the familiar name until the light bulb lit up.

  
"Do you mean the alchemist?"

  
Hermione's eyes brightened.

  
Adhara continued, "the one who discovered the twelve uses of dragon's blood. Hermione, we read about him sometime in October or something."

  
"Of course! How could I have been so stupid?" she said, making her way towards to bookshelves.

  
Potter turned his attention on Adhara. "What uses does a dragon's blood have?"

  
"I don't know," she gave him a shrug, "I stopped paying attention soon after. But Hermione should know. Why the sudden interest in Flamel anyway?"

  
"He has some-"

  
"Here we go!" Hermione hauled up a heavy book on the table between them and sat down on a chair next to Adhara. "We checked this out weeks ago for bit of a light reading." She started flicking through the pages.

  
Weasley nudged the book. "Light? _This_ is light?"

  
Hermione paused, glaring at Weasley before getting back to work. "Here it is! _Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's stone._ "

  
"What?" Both Potter and Weasley blurted out.

  
"Honestly. Don't you two read?"

  
Adhara snorted, amused at her friend. Potter and Weasley looked insulted.

  
"T _he Philosopher's stone is the legendary substance with astonishing powers,_ " Hermione read on, " _it can transform any metal into pure gold and produces the elixir of life, which would make the drinker immortal._ "

  
"Immortal?"

  
"It means you will never die," Adhara explained.

  
"I know what it means!"

  
Potter shushed him.

  
" _The only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mister Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist who, last year, celebrated his 660th birthday_."

  
"That's what Fluffy's guarding under the trap door on the third floor!"

  
The mention of ‘the third floor’ caught Adhara’s attention. She snapped her head at the two boys. “What do you mean the 'the third floor'? You don't mean the forbidden one, do you? And who’s Fluffy?”

  
The trio exchanged a look.

  
—

  
"And you think Snape is after this stone."

  
They were back at the secluded corridor that Adhara once showed Potter and Weasley. The two boys, along with Hermione, were cramped onto the windowsill, watching Adhara as she paced back and forth.

  
She abruptly stopped, surprising the trio, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Why did the Headmaster think it would be a good idea to put a priceless and dangerous artifact in a school full of children? Not to mention the cerberus!"

  
"I've always said he was an old bat," Weasley added. "I don't really trust him."

  
"Neither do I. There's something about that glint in his eye."

  
"I just think he’s mental."

  
"At least, there's something we both agree on."

  
Weasley nodded.

  
Hermione coughed, bringing attention to herself. "It was supposed to protect the stone." She was talking about the three-headed dog.

  
"Yes, but why _here_?"

  
"Hogwarts meant to be the safest place on earth. Suppose he thought it would be safe here. And he was right, wasn't he? Gringotts was robbed!"

  
"Yes, so safe that three ittle first years were able to figure out where the stone was located and who exactly was after it!"

  
Hermione opened her mouth to argue further but Potter beat her to it.

  
"That doesn't matter right now, does it? We know that the stone is here and that Snape is after it! We need to stop him!"

  
"And how do you suggest we do that? Potter, we are talking about a full-fledged adult wizard here!"

  
"But, Adha-"

  
"No, _Harry_ ," she said, stressing his name. "You are only an eleven year old kid. You can't possibly think of standing up to Snape on your own."

  
"Then what?! We just cower away whilst he steals the stone?!"

  
He was on his feet now. Standing right in front of Adhara, only a centimetre shorter than her, with a fierce look in his eye.

  
Adhara, on the other hand, looked as calm as ever, yet she had her fists clenched, nails digging into her palm.

  
The two others were still. They stayed at their original spots, too caught up in the fight to actually say something.

  
"No," Adhara started softly, "you barely know anything about the stone, not to mention you have no proof that Snape wants anything to do with it."

  
Potter's jaw clenched. "Then what do you suggest?"

  
"Gather information and evidence against Snape. And then go see your head of house. She seems trustworthy. You have mentioned that gamekeeper of yours was particularly loose-lipped, have you not?"

  
Potter nodded, rigidly.

  
"Go and ask him questions."

  
He gritted his teeth before letting out a deep breath. He still felt angry, breathing in and out was not helping dissipate the tension at his shoulders but he knew deep down that Adhara had a point.

  
"Alright. We will," he said, and then added, "Black."

  
"Potter."


	5. Chapter 4

When the weather outside started to get warmer, the Gryffindor trio decided to hang out close to the Black Lake. They weren't sitting at the edge of the lake as most students did. Ron was still hesitant to get close ever since he fell in that one time. And the second time.

It was a weekend and although Hermione wanted to spend the next weeks in the library, studying for finals, Harry and Ron convinced her that a bit a fresh air would do her good.

They didn't expect, however, to be joined by the fourth person.

"Hermione! Fancy seeing you, here."

"Millie! Come on," she patted the spot next to her "come sit."

Millicent complied.

Ron tried to get a good look at the blonde's face, but the sun was blaring right at him. He tried to create a shadow with his hand.

"Bulstrode," he stated.

"Weasley. Seems like you remember me. Can't really say the same about Potter, I'm assuming."

Harry gave her half a shrug. He still hadn't learned her name.

Millicent scoffed. "I've met you more than I've met Weasley, you know?" She proceeded to introduce herself. Hopefully, Harry would be able to remember her name.

Harry took a look at Ron, who was still staring at Millicent with the same wary look he was eyeing the lake a moment ago.

Harry thought that he'll get over it.

Millicent also noticed his vigilance and rolled her eyes. Deciding to ignore him, she made herself comfortable next to Hermione. "So, Hermione. What do you know about Walkmans? Do you think I can bring mine to school next year?”

———

"What did you do this time?"

The entirety of the Gryffindor table was staring daggers at Harry and Hermione. Weasley was at the hospital wing and their House lost 150 points overnight. Which shouldn't be even possible.

Adhara didn't want to admit it but her curiosity was peaked. What could the trio possibly have done this time to have lost such a large amount of points in such a small space of time?

Apparently, the answer was an illegal dragon. Which they illegally smuggled into the castle. And illegally shipped off to Romania.

And here Adhara thought they couldn't get any worst after the _bloody_ cerberus.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. "Hermione, I'm starting to think these boys are a bad influence on you."

Hermione turned scarlet. "You never cared about rules either!"

"Yes, but I never get caught."

"What kind of rules have you broken?" Harry butted in. He was still annoyed with Adhara.

Adhara considered him for a second before saying, "You aren't the only one who wanted to sneak into the restricted section."

Harry snapped his head towards his bushy-haired friend who's face flushed even more. No one was supposed to know that.

"Whatever. You never handled a dragon."

"You're right. I haven't. And even if I had, I would've been more cautious. And I certainly wouldn't get caught."

"Yeah? And how exactly would you have done that?"

"For one, I wouldn't have gone out at all last night. You could've very well just told Charlie Weasley to pick up the dragon at Hagrid's hut."

Harry's mouth snapped shut. He hadn't thought of that.

———

Adhara was repeatedly scratching her hands. They felt itchy and all she wanted to do was take her gloves off. But she couldn't. The library was full to the brim, and Hermione and Millie sat near her. The idea of finals was already stressing her out, she couldn't handle being flooded with questions about the furnace room on top of that.

Not to mention there was the whole ordeal with the Philosopher's Stone, which she was certain all three Gryffindors would go after at one point or another.

They informed Millie on the matter as well, and she was also very much against the idea.

At first, Adhara thought Hermione would talk the other two out of the plan but after the incident with the dragon, she wasn't so sure anymore.

Adhara started gnawing the inside of her mouth, without noticing. But both of her friends did.

She wasn't sure why it worried her so much. Hermione was smart, she could handle herself. Weasley wasn't her friend anyway. And Harry was...

..well she didn't know what Harry was. Not a friend. Or perhaps he was? They were on first-name basis. Sorta. He rambled to her about quidditch quite often. They don't hate each other’s presence. They had the same godfather and they both hated Snape.

Did that make them friends?

She huffed. Whatever. He was being annoying about the stone anyway.

—

Hermione and Millicent kept their eyes on their third friend. Adhara kept fidgeting and absentmindedly picking at her glove.

Both girls exchanged a look. They weren't stupid. They noticed how cautious Adhara was about showing her hands. Some of her gloves even reached all the way to her elbows. It was the ones she wore when it got warmer and she wanted to wear short-sleeved shirts.

They didn't know why she wore them. They could only guess with that horrible habit of hers, not knowing about the level of mess that hid under the piece of fabric.

Adhara kept picking at her glove. Picking, and picking and picking until there was no more fabric. She created a small hole but that didn't stop her from picking at her skin. She continued the action, without noticing what she was doing.

Hermione eyed the movement and saw marred skin through the gap. She gasped, grasping Adhara's hand which got her out of her trance-like state.

"Adhi!"

"What?"

Millie, who was just as worried, asked, "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Hermione motioned towards her hand.

"Oh."

"You ought to stop doing that."

"Yeah."

"Don't worry. We'll try and help."

———

It seemed like the story really wasn’t much different this time around. The trio still went after the stone. Neville still tried to stop them. And Hermione still stunned him.

But this time, a certain Slytherin was waiting for them at the door on the third floor. And she was going to change a few things.

"Hermione, you can't possibly be condoning th-" she stopped when she saw the determined look in her eye. "All three of you have gone mental!"

"At least we aren't sitting at the edge like cowards," interjected Potter.

"There are other ways to fight."

"This is our way."

"It's the reckless way."

"It's the Gryffindor way."

"I am not Gryffindor."

"Clearly."

Adhara huffed. " _Fine_. You do your way, and I'll do mine."

Potter was taken aback. "What? How?"

"The _Slytherin way_. As in the smart and less reckless way."

Potter glared.

Adhara continued to speak. "Half an hour. I'm giving you half an hour and if after that you three are still not back, I’m going straight to Professor McGonagall."

"And if she doesn't believe you?"

"Oh, trust me. I can be quite convincing when motivated."

"You find this motivating?"

"I'm not about to let you two let one of my only friends die."

"You don't have to worry about that. Believe me, we will all be fine."

"I don't care about what you believe." She stepped away from the door, leaving the trio access to the entrance. Hermione gave her an apologetic smile before going in, Weasley following behind her. She grabbed Potter's arm before he could follow.

"If you die, I will have to hex you."

Potter gave her a half-smile before handing her the invisibility cloak.

———

Adhara was leaning against the door, tapping her feet against the stone floor of the stairwell. She was safe under the invisibility cloak, so Filch couldn't catch her.

Only twenty minutes had passed but Adhara was getting impatient. It shouldn't be taking this long to begin with, right? She was starting to think of the worst. What if one of them got hurt? Or what if Snape found them and curse them? What if he already had the stone and her friends were possibly putting their lives in danger for no reason whatsoever!?

Adhara had had enough.

She secured the cloak around her and made her way towards the Gryffindor Head of House's chambers.

———

"For the umpteenth time, Miss Black, the stone is perfectly safe where it is. Now, I don't know how you found out-"

Adhara drowned her out, allowing herself to groan out loud, frustrated. She curled her fingers in her sleeves, trying her best to keep eye contact with the professor.

Usually, she would never let herself show this much emotion in front of an adult, especially if said adult was around the same age as Matron. But McGonagall wasn't listening and her friends could be in potential danger.

She took a deep breath. "Professor," she said, cutting her off, "whether someone is after the stone or not doesn't really matter here. What's important is that three of your students were convinced enough that there was in order to go after it."

The professor's eyes turned to saucers.

"They are there as we speak and I have a feeling that there is more than just a cerberus protecting the stone."

McGonagall instantly grabbed her wand and a stream of white light was sent towards her window. She rubbed her eyes.

"Why on _earth_ would they do such a reckless thing?"

"I wouldn't know, Professor. They are Gryffindors, after all. You should know better than me."

———

"Hey."

Adhara sat at the foot of Harry's bed. He's been asleep for almost three days and only woke up this morning. No one was allowed to visit him yet, so naturally, Adhara took that as a challenge to do exactly that.

"I told you not to get hurt."

"No, you said you'd hex me if I died. And I didn't. So, you can't."

Adhara sighed, exasperated, which made Harry laugh.

"Minor detail."

Adhara scrutinized him, waiting to see if she was missing something. He seemed way too okay for someone who was unconscious for three days straight.

But Adhara wasn't fooled. She grew up watching abused children and knew how they behaved. How to look for the signs. She was one herself, after all. She wasn't oblivious enough to not know that.

Harry, on the other hand.

"What?"

"Spill. What happened down there?"

"You could wait for Ron and Hermione. I have to tell them to and I don't want to repeat myself."

"I could. But that would mean settling for whatever diluted truth you're going to tell them."

Harry frowned.

——

Madam Pomfrey came back to check on Harry after a while, so Adhara had to hide under the invisibility cloak—which she still had in her possession. When the nurse left to eat lunch at the Grand Hall half an hour later, she slid out from under it and sat back down at her original spot.

Harry didn't understand why he trusted Adhara so much. He's not meant to trust her at all. She was Slytherin, she was Dark and, most of all, she was a Black. She shared blood with the man who betrayed his parents and a House with the one who killed them. Yet somehow, against his better judgment, he had begun to trust her.

Maybe it was because of her unapologetic honesty, or maybe it was because of her snarky nature. Perhaps it was simply because she understood. From what little information he got out of Ron about Aleyne, he could tell Adhara didn't have the rosiest of childhoods. And neither did he.

So he began to talk. He told her about the mirror, the stone, about Quirrel and who he was hiding beneath his turban. He told her about the encounter with the cloaked figure at the forbidden forest. He told her about his aching scar and then afterwards he continued.

He continued on with the Dursley's. He told her about their hatred towards magic and he told her the cupboard under the stairs. He didn't go much into detail about how they treated him, but he didn't need to. Adhara would understand, her gloves were proof of that.

At the end of his confession, Harry felt his eyes water but rapidly blinked the tears away. He wasn't supposed to cry. Crying meant getting hit, so he never cried.

Still, he felt too exposed, which he found idiotic since he's the one who spilled everything, to begin with. Adhara didn't ask him about the Dursley's. He's the one who volunteered the information so he didn't understand why he was being so sensitive.

Harry curled into himself, tugging the sleeves of his shirt over his knuckles.

Adhara eyed the movement. She closed her eyes, letting herself think. It was a lot of information to take in in one sitting.

She anticipated the neglect and abuse. She still didn't know to what extreme but that didn't matter. Abuse in any degree was abuse nonetheless. She guessed there was more to the story, but didn't pry. Harry would open up when he wanted to. If he wanted to.

Adhara could tell Harry felt vulnerable at the moment, with his knees pulled up to his chest. The scale was tipping too much on his side, and Adhara thought maybe evening it out would help him feel better.

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes once more.

Harry was still staring at her, confusion written all over his face.

She grabbed the bottom of her right glove with her left thumb and took another deep breath, making sure she was alright with what she was about to do.

When she was sure of herself, she pulled the glove off all the way—just one—and put her hand out towards Harry. It was the most exposed she felt all year.

Harry checked over the red splotches of crinkled and battered skin. He tried not to react but failed miserably, letting out a small gasp.

Adhara turned her hand, palm facing down. Healed scars littered her fingers, contrasting greatly with the girl’s own olive skin. Harry noticed how the space between her index and thumb displayed scratch marks. The nail on her pinky was missing.

"Aleyne is always cold, so someone has to constantly manage the furnace or else we would all freeze. Obviously, Matron could easily keep the heat with magic, but she finds joy in using the task as a punishment. We also get locked in the furnace room sometimes as punishment."

Harry nodded. He understood what it all meant. The endless chores, the unfair punishments, the locking up. It was all too familiar.

He pulled away his legs at the same time as Adhara put her glove back on.

—

They sat there in silence, not knowing how to pick up from the conversation.

Harry was the first one to speak.

"I wasn't going to tell the diluted truth, you know."

Adhara watched him speak.

"To Ron and Hermione, I mean. I was going to tell them the whole truth about what happened with Quirrel."

"Good," she nodded. "They deserve to know the whole truth. They're your best friends."

———

On the train ride back home, Adhara joined the trio in their compartment. Weasley, having gotten used to her presence long ago, made no comments. He simply lied down on the bench, tossing his legs on Harry's lap and crossing his hands under his head.

Adhara mulled over her plan in her head before poking Harry at the edge of his shoes with her foot, grabbing his attention.

"Oi, Harry. What's your address? I'm going to need it if I want to write to you."

"Why?" asked Hermione from next to her, "Owls don't need an address. They know how to find everyone."

"Be that as it may, I don't own an owl. There is only one at my orphanage and Matron is the one who uses him. She doesn't let us use one. If I want to write to you all, I will have to do it the muggle way, so I'm going to need his address. And yours too, now that I think about it."

Hermione contemplated her for a second before shrugging and taking out a piece of parchment from her bag.

"Sure, I'll write it down for you. Harry, what's yours?"

He recited his address, and Adhara smirked triumphantly.

"Do you want me to write down Ron's one too?"

"I don't think Weasley would appreciate a letter from yours truly."

"Oh, nonsense! You two should write. Ron, what's your address?"

The said boy didn't answer and only turned away from the two. He obviously wasn't sleeping, only pretending and ignoring the rest of the compartment's occupants.

And if Millicent slipped in a few minutes later, he would pretend not to notice either. After all, it wasn't too unexpected, was it?


End file.
